


Mandalore's Consort

by Gabriel4Sam



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-24 06:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10736376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriel4Sam/pseuds/Gabriel4Sam
Summary: Their story was one of democracy, of politicians devoting their lives to make the Galaxy a better place. Their story was one of long evenings, each woman on her datapad, of sessions of the Senate watched together on the holonet, exchanging notes, smiling when the other had found a worthy point that had escaped their attention…





	Mandalore's Consort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Artemis1000](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/gifts).



> Obiwanisthebest played beta for this fic and has my many thanks for their work, nice words and good advices!

“Captain of the Guard of Naboo" was a prestigious title, always given to the honorable and competent, and was not used as a political tool by powerful families.

Ok, almost always - Naboo was no more perfect than the rest of the galaxy, after all. Captain Gregar Typho, however, was a shining example of that title, a veteran from the Battle of Naboo, professional, smart, skilled, and proficient. He had stopped three assassination attempts on Padme Amidala, arrested stalkers, diverted paparazzi from the most unsavory holochannels, was trained in investigation, spoke four languages and understood two more, and was a skilled pilot.

And strangely, the greatest service he accomplished for the Senator of Naboo he was serving was three words in a conversation with a ginger Jedi.

“Alone, on Naboo?” Captain Typho asked, disbelief curving his mouth into a grimace. He was pacing furiously, in contrast to the pillar of apparent calm that was the Jedi, and the discreet presence of the three handmaidens, silent as always until they needed to explode into action.

“My Padawan would protect her,” Obi-Wan Kenobi had answered, like it was supposed to reassure the Captain.

“With all due respect, Master Jedi…”

“Obi-Wan, please.”

“Obi-Wan. I’m sorry to say this, and I say it with the most profound respect, but were all the members of the Jedi Council born old?”. He tried hard, very hard, to stop the sarcasm from dripping into his words but really…what were the Jedi thinking?

“Captain?” Kenobi asked.

“To send two young people alone, in a stressful situation, never knowing if assassins would find them….what exactly do you think will happen?” Typho continued with disbelief

“Jedi Padawans have the same obligation of celibacy as the Masters and Knights.”

“I don’t doubt it. I also know that the handmaiden make a vow of chastity for their time of service and let’s just say, I always knock before opening a closet.”Typho said and two of the handmaiden blushed.

Gregar Typho didn’t say the other thing that was on his mind, that he didn’t like the way the young Jedi, the apprentice, was looking at his Senator. Perhaps not stalker material - Skywalker was a Jedi after all, but he had something in his gaze…

Or perhaps it was only the exhaustion of too many attempts against the Senator’s life - perhaps Typho needed a long, long holiday. Working with the young Senator was a stressful way of life, even for a veteran. She never listened to her security officer and thought that sleeping with a blaster between the head of her bed and the wall was enough protection.

“And is Naboo the best place? Wouldn’t people search here first?” Handmaiden Dorme butted in. She was already dressed to pass for the Senator, and the plan was that Typho and she would serve as decoys, drawing the attention of would-be assassins.

“Well, the Council doesn’t have other Jedi ready to play chaperone for two young…” and then Obi-Wan Kenobi stopped, blushed. There was a moment’s pause.

“Could I use your communicator?” He asked, very nicely. “I may know somewhere…”

Three hours later, Padme Amidala and Anakin Skywalker were en route for Mandalore.

The Senator spent all trip chatting about the example Satine Kryze was for young politicians, from the way she had changed Mandalore's politics- transforming the formerly war-torn world in a peaceful one - to her education reforms. From her most notorious speeches to her policies to rehabilitate former prisoners…and on and on and on it went.

Anakin was slightly vexed , not knowing what to make of the woman her was hearing about. And then he met Satine Kryze, and she was a force of nature, someone he could admire, respect. She had cleared her plans for dinner for them and here she was, the woman that had changed Mandalore, beautiful in an evening gown almost as complicated as a Naboo one. The two women spent all dinner discussing legislations, agrarian reforms, sentient rights, the problem of external debts of most worlds, and a long list of other socio-political issues. The truth was that the young Padawan was beginning to find Padme boring. He had been so happy to see her again but politics had never been his forte - things always seemed so simple when the Chancellor explained them to him. But with his Master, with those two, it was endless debates and too many points of view!

Still, Padme seemed happy, and the Duchess, too. Every day, they occupied almost all their free time with each other and there was a true happiness resonating in the Force even when they examined labour standard requirements together! Well, if they were happy…Anakin used that time to teach Satine’s nephew how to pilot a speeder.

And then one day, when the mist of dawn was still making the path of the garden’s palace glisten, the Duchess found him, agitated, terrified. She listened to his nightmares. There was a note of desperation in his voice. His mother, broken, dying, calling for him…

Satine Kryze was a determined woman, used to making circumstances bend to her will, but she wasn’t without compassion. She had been Anakin’s age when her father had been murdered.

“Shh, child,” she hushed, something that would have vexed Anakin profoundly in other circumstances. She wrapped her two hands around his. She gave him ten men and a medic, and kept Padme, safe within the palace walls.

Tatooine, the Tuskens, and the difference that a medic made in the Tusken’s camp for Shmi’s survival - that is Anakin’s story and is best told another time.

The story of Padme and Satine stayed on Mandalore. Their story was one of democracy, of politicians devoting their lives to make the Galaxy a better place. Their story was one of long evenings, each woman on her datapad, of sessions of the Senate watched together on the holonet, exchanging notes, smiling when the other had found a worthy point that had escaped their attention…When Padme left for Coruscant again, it was weeks later than it should have been, and she left with an oath to come back. Satine was everything she had imagined, and more. A brilliant mind, sharp enough that you could cut yourself on it. A heart so big the whole galaxy could find mercy in it. A voice that had always spoken of the greater good and a soul so bright you could light your own path with it. Padme was feeling like a teenager again, like the time of her first crushes. The sensation was almost foreign now, she spent more time working than anything else.

And Satine? Satine had renounced love for duty once, and would again if she didn’t have a choice, but in the dead of the night, the fire in Padme’s soul was a warm memory.

Padme went back. Again. And again. Months after months, when the galaxy went to war, tearing itself apart. In Mandalore, she found a heaven, advice, and most importantly, friendship. A friendship so strong it gave her strength in dark times. A friendship that always seemed to oscillate on the verge of something else but never did, because no one ever said the word.

Satine did what she almost never let herself. She left Mandalore to assist in Padme’s speeches, in Mandalore’s pod in the Senate. She fretted when the courage of the younger took some less travelled paths for a Senator, took her to dangers and fire. She nearly cried from happiness every time the young woman came back.

And one day, Padme was supposed dead in one of those machinations that seemed to have become common in those terrible times. Obi-Wan commed her himself, in the night, his tunic charred, his eyes bloodshot, and Satine cried, cried all tears her body could give. The more time that passed, the more the Duchess regretted her silence. Love, even if hers had not been unrequited, wouldn’t have stopped Padme, but at least she would have known…

Until the morning Padme came back, a tale from an older time in her mouth, of Sith Lords, brave Jedi Knights, of ancient evils and terrible prophecies. Satine didn’t let her finish and leaving from her throne, breaking protocol, she flung herself in the younger woman’s arms, not even taking the time to catalogue her possible wounds. When the other one didn’t protest, hugged her so firm, so strong, the Duchess played her heart on a chance and kissed her.

 

Three months later, Padme resigned. It was difficult, she had loved serving her people, defending Naboo, and the rest of the galaxy. But there was work for her on Mandalore, too, and Satine, her title hereditary, couldn’t exactly serve the galaxy in other ways. Padme hoped, that after time, after proving herself to the people of her new planet, that she could one day serve as Mandalore's Senator.

That day wasn’t a time for work, though, nor a time for political planning.

That day, Padme knelt in the throne room, all the court silent, her parents crying and smiling. Captain Typho too, his only eye full of happy tears, the handmaidens as mysterious and difficult to decipher than any other day behind her train. She knelt and on her head, Satine placed the coronet of Mandalore’s consort.

 

_And they lived happily after_ _…._


End file.
